


Daniel LaRusso and the Five Love Languages

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Divorced Daniel, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Healing, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love Languages, M/M, Robby/Moon, S2 Canon Divergence, Smiggy, Wooing, lawrusso
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:46:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Daniel sees Sam taking a Love Languages test for her psychology class and decides to try and find out Johnny's love language.NOT a sequel to Johnny Lawrence and the Five Love Languages in plot, just in spirit.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 80
Kudos: 621





	1. Quality Time

Daniel was used to being tech support in his house. Not that he was good at it, not by a long shot, but everyone seemed to come to him when the WiFi stopped working, or when their computer chargers started crapping out. He wondered, often enough, if what his kids really needed was common sense support rather than tech support. Still, there were very few issues that his kids brought him that he couldn’t fix. 

That, at least, he was proud of. 

“Dad!” Sam called from her desk, and Daniel could tell, just from the tone of her voice, that she was having a tech issue. “Help.” 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he joked as he stepped into her room. She looked up from her laptop, brow furrowed, and pouted. “Okay, okay, what’s the problem?” 

“I have to take this quiz for my psychology class,” she said, pointing at the laptop screen, “but the results never show up. I’ve taken it like four times!” 

He shooed her off the chair, taking her seat and surveying the screen. “The Five Love Languages?” he read out loud. 

“I don’t know, apparently everyone loves in a specific language or something,” she said, frustrated. “I just have to take the test, and I have to do it by tomorrow.” 

He turned back to the screen, scrolling down to the bottom of the page and then the top. There was nothing wrong with the connection, nothing wrong with the website. This might actually be out of his tech level. He heaved a breath through his nose and looked over the website again, confidence ebbing by the second. 

And then he saw it, the little window in the upper right corner of the webpage. 

“Your pop-up blocker is on,” he said, clicking on it. “If the results come up in another window, the pop-up blocker will prevent you from seeing it, because it thinks it’s an ad.” The window appeared, bright and sparkly. “Your love language is Quality Time,” he said, hopping up from the chair as Sam crowded behind him. 

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, and he waved her off with a pleased smile. She went back to her computer, reading the little description underneath her quiz results, and Daniel furrowed his brows at her. 

“So what does it mean?” he asked. 

“What does what mean?” she asked. “Oh, _this_?” she pointed at the screen. “It just means that I really like it when someone shows me that they care about me by spending time with me.” 

“What class is this for again?” 

“Psychology,” she said breezily, turning back to the computer. “Do you think I could get Anthony to take this?” 

He barked a laugh. “No, not unless it involves beating up Goombas or whatever he does all the time.” 

“Dad, what are Goombas?” 

“ _My point is_ ,” he pressed on while his daughter laughed, “You’d have to bribe him. Anthony’s love language is money and video games.” 

“Probably Receiving Gifts, then,” she mused thoughtfully. “Well, my assignment is to get another family member to take the test,” she said. “I was going to get Anthony, because we’re complete opposites, but –”

“I’ll take it,” Daniel offered. “Let’s face it, you don’t have the kind of money to bribe your brother.” 

“You sure?” she asked. “I thought you were looking at sales reports.” 

“Ehh,” he scoffed. “Sales reports are boring. Personality tests for my daughter’s high school psychology class are way more interesting.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, getting up and leaving her chair open for him to take again. 

The quiz took him less than five minutes. He found himself floundering on some of the questions. It was hard to answer them after being married for almost twenty years and then getting divorced. Was he supposed to be thinking of what he and Amanda used to do? Was he supposed to be thinking of what he hoped someday someone else would do for him? 

In the end, he pushed down his insecurity and made it through, aware of Sam’s eyes on his back the whole time. 

“My love language is Quality Time,” he said, and Sam let out an unsurprised sound behind him. “Sorry I’m not more interesting!” he joked, and she laughed. 

“I guess I’m just not surprised,” she said. “Spending time with you has always been your favorite thing. And…we’re kind of the same person.” 

“You pull off the mini-skirts way better than I do,” he replied dryly. 

She rolled her eyes, but laughed anyway. 

***

“Shannon called me the other day,” Johnny said with no preamble. Daniel, with a mouth full of coffee, paused and looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. 

When he didn’t, he swallowed his coffee and cleared his throat. “And?” he asked. 

Johnny shrugged, stabbing scrambled eggs with his fork. The metal scraped against the plate harshly, and Daniel tried to hide the wince that the sound sent through him. “Didn’t get to say much.” 

Daniel knew what that meant even before Johnny could elaborate. “You two fought again?” 

Johnny kept his eyes on his breakfast and didn’t speak. This was their new tradition: Johnny was working on getting a bigger apartment, one with two bedrooms, to accommodate for Robby, and in the meantime, Johnny and Daniel would sit down for a meal once a week to discuss Robby and his future. Their rules were simple: no fighting, and always include home-cooked food. 

Daniel could only eat that greasy diner food so many times. 

“She’s angry that I’m getting another chance,” Johnny muttered. “Can’t really blame her.” 

Daniel didn’t disagree. Shannon had lived with and without Johnny and his influence for sixteen years – seeing him swoop in and possibly get a clean slate must be difficult. He wished Shannon could see what he was starting to see, more and more each week – that Johnny was _trying_ , and that his own absence weighed heavily on him. 

Mr. Miyagi’s voice came to him, as it always did when he was struggling to reconcile this Johnny with the old one – _People change, people grow, like bonsais. Grow where they are encouraged to grow._

“She’s in rehab,” he said, leaning back in his chair and observing Johnny without obstruction. “She’s going through a lot.” 

“She just thinks yelling at me will make it better,” he said, and the sentence was so unguarded, so childlike, that Daniel couldn’t think of anything to say. 

Finally, after scrutinizing Johnny’s visage, he spoke. “How were you, you know, as a couple, when you were together?” 

“We weren’t a couple, really,” Johnny said. “We were two messed up people existing in the same place.” 

“How…sad,” Daniel said softly. 

“We just wanted someone who gave a shit, you know, and we thought – I don’t know what we thought,” he stabbed the almost empty plate again, the screech of the fork against the plate loud in the silence. “Whatever, this isn’t therapy.” 

Daniel didn’t say anything.

He spent the day at LaRusso Auto thinking of Sam’s Love Language test. How simple it had been for him to see how much he enjoyed spending time with someone – and how much that time registered to him as giving and receiving love. It made sense. 

And then there was Johnny, who came to his house every Sunday morning to eat breakfast and talk about his son. He wasn’t sure why and how his mind came to connect love languages with the enigma of Johnny Lawrence, but once the connection had been made, it sat with him, heavy like a worry, until he had the opportunity to sit in his office and think about it. 

He liked Johnny – more than he’d ever tell him, should that inflate his ego to dangerous levels, and the more time he spent with him, the more he understood him. Johnny was brash, he was rude, but he wore his insults like armor to hide the scarred softness beneath. 

It was sad, thinking about how much Johnny cared about his son, about his Cobra Kai kids, and how much hurt he’d been dealt. 

Johnny wanted Shannon to be his person, the person he could be close to, before Robby was born. That had blown up in his face. Perhaps Daniel could be that person now. 

Didn’t Johnny deserve a friend? 

***

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Daniel said before Johnny could even get out so much as a _‘hello.’_ Johnny could practically feel his energy through the phone – always hyper or anxious, that LaRusso. He shrugged, turning his eyes out to the dojo, slowly emptying of kids as they got dressed and went on with their lives. 

“I dunno,” he muttered. “What do adults usually do on a Saturday?” 

Daniel huffed on the other line. “Does that mean you don’t have plans?” 

“LaRusso, the only plans I ever have are with the dojo or with you and my son,” he pointed out, leaning down to his little fridge to pull out a Banquet. “Are you trying to get me to openly admit that I don’t have a life?” 

“I thought maybe we’d go out to the woods tomorrow,” Daniel said gamely, but there was an undercurrent of forced energy Johnny could feel coming off the words. “Go camping for the day.”

“Who’s we?” 

Here Daniel hesitated. “You and me.” 

Johnny smirked. “You taking me out to the woods to kill me, LaRusso?” 

Daniel chuckled. “Too much work. I could just poison your beer.” 

Johnny pulled his bottle of Coors away from his mouth. “That’s rude, LaRusso, threatening a man’s beer.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“To my imminent dramatic and complicated murder in the woods?” Johnny asked, rolling his eyes when Daniel scoffed at him. “Sure, why not.” 

“I’ll pick you up at 6 a.m.” 

“6 _what_?” Johnny asked, to no answer. “LaRusso?” 

He pulled the phone away from his face to find nothing but his home screen. He sighed, taking another long pull from his beer. Camping sounded fun, actually, if he didn’t think about how early he was going to have to wake up. He didn’t think LaRusso was really the camping type, if he were honest. Something about his big, spacious Encino house with the Jacuzzi and wine fridge didn’t exactly scream _roughing it._

Still, getting out of his apartment, where he was constantly haunted by its lack of a second bedroom, where he heard Shannon’s voice in every empty, silent moment, would be good for him. Or something. 

***

He was supposed to get up at 5 to make sure he had everything he needed for ill-described camping in the woods with Daniel LaRusso. Johnny had planned, from the moment his phone beeped to let him know that Daniel LaRusso shared a calendar event with him (entitled “Rise and Shine,” of all fucking things), to be awake and ready by the time Daniel showed up to his apartment. 

He did not get up at 5 a.m. 

He did not wake up at his alarm, he did not wake up at Daniel’s phone call, he did not wake up at the text messages or FaceTime request. He woke up to his duffel bag landing in a lump on his chest. He jerked awake, his pleasant dream already slipping away, to Daniel LaRusso glaring at him from the foot of his bed. 

“If you wanted in my bedroom, LaRusso, all you had to do was ask,” he grumbled, rolling over on his side, pulling his duffel bag up to his chest like an extra pillow. 

“Don’t go back to sleep, Johnny,” Daniel warned, reaching for the duffel bag. “You need to get up.” 

“Shhh, LaRusso, some of us like sleeping,” Johnny said, using his foot to push Daniel away. 

Daniel swatted at his foot, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Come on, Johnny, we’re going camping.” 

Johnny could hear him now, closer to the side of the bed than before, exasperation and humor belying his irritation. He could practically hear the smile on his face. He _did_ want to go camping, he really did, but he had a natural inclination to irritate Daniel LaRusso as much and as often as he could, and this was a prime opportunity. 

“Never should have given Robby that spare key,” he muttered into the pillow, knowing that Daniel would step closer to hear him. 

He felt him, the warmth of his presence right by his side, and waited. 

He counted to three. 

And then he reached out and grabbed Daniel around the waist and tossed him unceremoniously onto the other side of his bed, where he landed with an undignified _oomph._

“God dammit Johnny,” Daniel huffed, trying to get up again. “You’re such a dick.” 

Johnny cracked one eye, surveying Daniel, rumpled in his blue shorts and grey sweater, and grinned. “You look tired, LaRusso. Take a nap.” 

He could hear Daniel sputter next to him. “We’re – we’re supposed to be –”

“Camping, I know,” he said, pulling himself up so he was resting on his elbow. “The woods will still be there in a couple of hours. You look exhausted. Sleep.” 

It wasn’t a lie – Daniel always looked closer to tired than his energetic mannerisms led everyone else to believe, but Johnny could always see through it. He got up early for his kids, when they were with him, he got up early for work, for karate, for everything. And then he stayed up late for the exact same reasons. 

He settled back down into his pillows and surveyed him, tense on top of the blankets, head resting crookedly on Johnny’s other pillow, half out of the pillowcase. He looked both markedly out of place and perfectly at home, somehow, a contrast that only Daniel LaRusso could pull off. 

“Why do you want to go camping so bad?” he asked when Daniel stubbornly left his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. 

Daniel’s head jerked around to catch his gaze, blanket still pulled up to his chest. “I – I thought it would be a nice thing to do,” he stammered. 

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Seems like you planned this a little too much for it to just be a nice thing to do.” 

“Shut up, Johnny.” 

He nodded, picking up his blanket and tossing it over to Daniel’s side. “Okay,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

***

He did nap, even though he had planned to sit in sullen silence until Johnny got up. There was something about the way the sunlight filtered in through his blinds and the soft, worn blanket over him that pulled him under in the end. He didn’t dream, but remained aware of where he was, and who was lying beside him, arm half-extended in his direction. 

When he woke, Johnny was gone, and the apartment smelled like bologna and eggs. 

He found him in the kitchen, dressed for camping, two plates on the counter, bologna steaming on the plates, eggs in the pan. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Johnny chirped with a smirk. “Coffee’s ready if you need it.” 

“What time is it?” he reached for the mug of coffee without comment. Johnny watched his hand while he stirred eggs. 

“Only 8:15 or so,” Johnny said. “You were out like a light, LaRusso. Did you know you snore?” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I don’t snore.” 

“I’ll record it next time,” Johnny said, handing Daniel a plate of breakfast. Daniel caught his gaze and held it. He wondered if Johnny realized what he’d said. 

And then his stomach grumbled, and he realized it didn’t matter. There wouldn’t be a next time anyway. 

Camping was a nice thing to do, as it turned out. It was easier to be comfortable out in the woods, with no cell reception. Jokes flowed better; differences fell away to startling similarities. It was easy to forget who they were when there was no one around to remind them. 

Daniel found himself wondering, often, if Johnny was having fun – if he was enjoying himself the way Daniel was. Did he feel more like they were friends now? He certainly felt like they were friends now, more than before. But, a voice that sounded like Sam’s reminded him, wasn’t quality time _his_ love language? 

He watched Johnny closely as the morning waned into the afternoon and then evening. Still, he got nothing special. Sure, Johnny was cracking jokes and laughing at Daniel’s, but was that an indicator that he found his love language? 

He was still trying to figure it out when they were in the car, driving home, Johnny driving because he didn’t trust Daniel’s eyesight in the dark ( _you’re an old man,_ he’d joked when Daniel took out his glasses). He watched the man’s sharp profile in the dim light, the radio turned down low. 

“What are you staring at?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from the road to look in his direction, blue eyes somehow still bright when there was no light to reflect. 

“Nothing,” Daniel said hurriedly, much too fast. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Okay, so you haven’t been watching me all afternoon like you’re waiting for me to explode?” he asked. “You’re the opposite of slick, LaRusso.” 

Daniel didn’t say anything. 

Johnny sighed. “Look, I know you just brought me out here because you feel bad for me, or whatever. It’s fine, you can say it.” 

“I didn’t –”

“I won’t be mad –”

“I didn’t!” Daniel exclaimed, loudly enough that Johnny went silent, his face expectant. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, you know, like friends do.” 

Johnny’s gaze came back to him again, pinning him in place. “Are we friends?” he asked. 

He turned away, back to the road, but Daniel still felt rooted in place. “I – well, yeah, aren’t we?” 

Johnny shifted in his seat, his hand tightening on the steering wheel before he loosened it. “Yeah, okay, I guess we are.” 

Daniel wondered if he really meant it.


	2. Receiving Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel buys Johnny a board game.

Johnny’s face haunted him. The way he glanced over to Daniel in askance when he asked if they were friends, the way his hand clenched around the steering wheel when Daniel said they were. It wasn’t a happy reaction, but it wasn’t necessarily angry, either. No, it lingered somewhere in the middle, where Daniel could obsess over it in all of his free time. 

He was shaken out of his reverie by a happy cheer coming from the coffee table – Robby, Sam, Anthony, Moon, and Miguel were gathered around the wooden table, playing Monopoly. 

“Give me your rent money!” Anthony crowed at Miguel, who rolled his eyes and passed over the tiny bills. 

“Why do we play Monopoly?” Robby asked, a laugh on the edge of his voice. “We always remember we hate it halfway through.”

Sam shrugged and picked up the dice. “Dad, did you want to play?” 

“Yeah, Mr. LaRusso, we need a real business man to keep Anthony off our backs,” Robby added, grinning when Anthony flicked a Go To Jail card at him. 

They did this almost every Wednesday, when they didn’t have karate training and Anthony didn’t have Robotics practice after school. They ordered a mess of food from different restaurants and gathered around the coffee table, even though the dining room table must have been more comfortable. 

Sometimes he played with them – tonight he was too busy thinking about Johnny. Which, in and of itself, was a problem. He had other things to think about – when Amanda was going to pick up the kids so they could spend the second half of the week with her, when he was going to finish the sales reports he was supposed to look at a few days ago, when he was going to eat dinner, for God’s sake, but here he was, replaying their day together again. 

“I’ll play only if I’m paid in Chinese food,” he said after a moment. 

He needed to get Johnny off the brain. 

“I thought teenagers usually spent their free time drinking booze in parking lots or something,” he remarked as he settled onto a cushion on the floor, his knees protesting. Moon passed him the cardboard container of vegetable lo mein, chopsticks sticking out of it. 

“On a Wednesday?” Sam wrinkled her nose. “That’s a little too waster for my tastes. Save the illegal drinking for the weekend.” 

He picked up the little shoe and put it on Go. “I know you’re joking but please don’t joke,” he said to Sam’s laughter. 

Robby shrugged, passing Daniel the dice. “I like board game nights,” he said absently. “Didn’t really get a lot of them growing up.” 

Daniel blinked and rolled the dice, watching Moon settle into the crook of Robby’s arm.

***

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, her voice loud enough that Daniel jumped violently, his hand trying to minimize the browser window like he was looking at something untoward. She narrowed her eyes at him and then the computer screen. “Board games?” she asked. 

“What are you doing up so early?” he asked, his heart still thudding against his rib cage. 

She shrugged, turning away from him to grab a mug and pour herself some coffee. “Thought I’d get up, surprise my dad while he does some sketchy internet surfing.” 

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically, going back to the window. “I was thinking of ordering this game,” he said, pulling Sam’s attention back to him. “What do you think?” 

“We have a cabinet full of board games.” 

He pursed his lips. “This isn’t for our house.” 

She turned away again, graceful as ever, her long hair just barely brushing his shoulder in the turn, to add cream to her coffee. “Who is it for?” 

He didn’t answer. 

He heard her pour the cream, stir, and put the carton back in the fridge. She came back to his side and leaned on the counter. “Is it for Sensei Lawrence?” 

He caught her gaze, serene and all-knowing, and averted his eyes. “Robby said he liked playing board games.” 

“You want him to be able to play board games with his dad,” she finished. “That’s a nice gesture.” 

He nodded, even though he wasn’t really listening. He felt like he was telling her a secret, somehow, like he was showing her his hand of cards that were meant to stay hidden. She took a sip of her coffee and settled herself at a stool on the other side of the counter. Her pajamas were pink, with little ice creams on them. In the morning, she looked more like a kid than ever.

“Do you like him?” she asked. 

He tore his eyes away from the computer screen, where he had been hiding his face, and found hers. “Johnny? He’s alright, I guess,” he said anxiously, while wondering why he was so anxious. “We’re friends.” 

She smirked, reminding him of Johnny (which was irritating), and cleared her throat. “No, I don’t mean like friends. I mean like _more_ than friends.” 

He watched her take another sip of her coffee, as if she’d just asked about what the weather was outside. He knew his face was deliberately blank, all expression wiped cleanly from it, while his mind seemed to speed up to work uncomfortably fast. Where had she gotten that idea? It wasn’t like he was keen on bringing Johnny around his kids that often; they only saw each other one day a week for a meal, and most of the time, Sam wasn’t even around for that. 

“I’m asking because you’ve been kind of obsessed with him recently,” she continued when he didn’t speak. “You guys have a meal together once a week, and you spend days planning what you’re going to make. Then you went on a random camping trip at the break of dawn on Saturday? And now you’re looking for board games because of one comment Robby made.” 

“I – I don’t –”

“Dad,” she said, looking so like her mother that his sudden guilt compounded, and he felt his face going red. “What’s your love language?” 

He hesitated. “Quality time?” 

“Right, and what have you been doing for days now?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Spending time with or thinking about Sensei Lawrence.” 

“I haven’t –”

She raised her eyebrows and his words died in his throat. “Okay,” she said, standing up from her seat. “Okay, maybe I was wrong.” 

She didn’t sound like she believed it. 

***

“I got you something,” Daniel said suddenly over lunch on Sunday, the moment that Johnny put a huge mouthful of Daniel’s homemade pasta in his mouth. He could do nothing but nod, hoping that Daniel would keep talking while he chewed. He didn’t know what the man made for lunch instead of breakfast this time, just that it was pasta and he made an Italian joke when Daniel put the plate in front of him, a thrill running through him when he laughed. 

It had vegetables in it, which was probably the first vegetable Johnny had eaten since their weekly meal last week, but it was still good. He was still trying to decide if he should tell Daniel that his food was good. 

Was that what friends did? 

Daniel got up from his seat and crossed to the living room, where he picked up a box and deposited it on the table next to Johnny’s plate. He looked like he was deliberately trying to play it cool, in only the way Daniel could – by being very determined and failing spectacularly. 

“Codenames,” Johnny read, now that he didn’t have a mouth full of food. “A spy game?” 

“Apparently you get into teams and try to decipher clues,” Daniel said, his voice peppy and sped up. “It’s a team game.” 

“I got that,” Johnny said with amusement, “when you said that we get into teams.” 

Daniel’s face flushed a brilliant red, a new shade Johnny had never seen before. He took it in curiously. “Relax, LaRusso, I’m just busting your balls,” he said, swirling more pasta around his fork. “Do you want to play?” 

Daniel dropped his gaze to the table, to his untouched food. “I thought…I thought you could play with Robby.” 

Johnny put his fork down, still full of pasta. Daniel was talking like he was waiting for Johnny to get angry, like he was holding back important information. He had a tone when he was doing stuff like that, leading and tinged with a warning that Johnny could never decipher until it was too late. “With Robby?” 

“He and the kids play board games on Wednesdays and he said he liked playing board games when he was a kid, so I thought –”

“LaRusso,” he interrupted, flipping the box over to look on the other side. “Do you think I’m going to be angry because you know something about my kid that I don’t?” 

Daniel shrugged, but the movement was jerky. 

“We have these meals so I can learn things about Robby,” Johnny pointed out, tilting his head to observe Daniel better. He was still avoiding his gaze. “Or are you being weird because you bought me a gift?” 

Daniel’s face did that thing he did whenever he was trying to be secretive – his face went completely blank. He probably thought it was a solid strategy, but he couldn’t empty his eyes. His copper colored eyes, always brimming with some emotion he couldn’t manage to keep buried. Right now, they were full of uncertainty. 

Johnny pushed the game across the table to him. “Keep it here,” he said. “That way we can all play it together.” 

Daniel didn’t say anything, but picked up his fork for the first time, his eyes darting back to Johnny before landing on his plate. 

“You’re being weird again,” Johnny said absently. “Are you okay?” 

The fork clinked onto the plate. Daniel fiddled with the silverware, the movement watched closely by Johnny, surreptitiously on the other side of the table. “You ever know something, but…you know, you don’t know you know it?” 

Johnny looked up at him, brow furrowed in bemusement. “And then it just hits you in the face one day? Sure.” 

“Yeah,” Daniel said softly. “And it just hits you in the face one day.” 

“What hit you in the face?” Johnny asked, scooping a vegetable onto his fork and popping it between his teeth. 

Daniel grimaced, and then shrugged. “Well, you did.” 

Johnny laughed. “Okay, LaRusso. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to tell me.” 

Daniel, on the other side of the table, sighed heavily. 

***

Johnny was bad at this Codenames thing. 

The game was simple enough; you had a code person who gave you clues, and then the rest of the team had to figure out which of the twenty-five words on the board the clue referred to. He thought it would be an easy game – how hard could it be? 

But he didn’t know any of the references Robby was making – Moon got them easily enough, tapping Johnny on the arm and indicating the card he should choose – but he and Miguel sat side-by-side, not contributing. 

At first, it was kind of funny that he was struggling – he could laugh at himself enough, he supposed, but now it just felt like a scratch in his tender skin that everyone kept poking. He felt like everyone knew he and Miguel were out of the loop, were left behind somehow. It was like being punished for being close to Miguel instead of Robby. 

To his credit, Robby didn’t seem angry, but that didn’t help make things easier.

He could feel Daniel’s eyes on him, worried and soft. That was somehow making things worse. Knowing that Daniel knew he was struggling made him feel almost embarrassed, and he did and said mean things when he was embarrassed. 

When the round was over, Daniel jumped up from his seat. “John, a beer?” 

His eyes said _follow me_. Johnny tried not to roll his eyes as he stood up. What was LaRusso going to do, lecture him about not knowing what Tik Tok was? He followed after him, trying to keep his temper in check. There was nothing to be angry about yet, he told himself, keep it together. 

“Are you alright?” was the first thing Daniel said when they got to the kitchen, his voice low so the kids couldn’t hear them. 

“Fine,” he said shortly. 

“No, but really,” Daniel insisted, opening the fridge. 

“Really,” he repeated firmly, taking the offered beer. 

Daniel bumped the fridge closed with his hip, the movement catching Johnny’s eye. “I know when you’re lying,” he said. “You don’t have to lie.” 

“Do you understand the references they’re making?” Johnny asked, stepping closer so he could whisper the questions. “Or am I just an idiot?” 

Daniel looked up at him, eyes wide. “No,” he said quietly. “I have no idea what Tik Tok is.” 

“Good,” Johnny said, sighing, the breath ruffling Daniel’s hair. “So it’s not just me.” He reached up, without thinking, and smoothed Daniel’s hair back down again. 

Daniel’s eyes fluttered closed, only slightly longer than necessary, but it was long enough that Johnny stopped his hand, fingers still just barely tangled in his hair, and waited for him to open his eyes again. The lights above him caught the color of his eyes and lit them on fire, sparkling golden brown. 

“Dad, are you coming back?” Sam called from the kitchen. 

Daniel didn’t move. 

“Play a round without us,” he said when he saw Johnny’s mouth quirk upward at his silence. He let Daniel’s hair slide easily from between his fingers, content to let the moment pass without saying anything. He reclaimed his hand, letting it fall to his side, where Daniel caught it and pulled it back up to his face, where he guided Johnny’s hand to cup his cheek. 

He took his hand away, Johnny’s hand splayed over his cheek of its own accord now, and leaned into the touch. 

“I like this game better,” Johnny said quietly, letting his thumb trace Daniel’s sharp cheekbone. 

Daniel took his wrist gently, his index and middle finger resting over his thundering pulse. 

“We should get back,” he said quietly, so quietly that he had to lean in so Johnny could hear him, his chest barely brushing Johnny’s in the movement. He could smell Daniel’s cologne, something subtle and expensive and ridiculously memorable (it was still lingering on his pillow).

“I forgot what we were doing,” Johnny admitted. Daniel grinned, bright and wide, and stepped back, Johnny’s hand tracing his jaw before falling back to his side. 

Daniel was still looking at him, smile fading into something more thoughtful, full of promise, and Johnny felt the breath in his lungs stutter to a stop. 

“New round,” Daniel called out to the kids, who fell silent at the sound of his voice. “Kids against the adults.” 

He threw Johnny a wink before turning around to go back to the game, leaving Johnny behind, dazed. 

***

They made a startlingly good team. 

Daniel hoped that they would, but he didn’t have high hopes after watching Johnny try and fail to win the Codenames game with Robby on his team. He just didn’t seem like the game was his style, or like he was truly invested in it. It became apparent after a few rounds that he was very invested in the game after all, but failing in front of his son was wounding his already fragile pride. 

Even with five kids on one team and only two of them, they swept through the round with no trouble, no misunderstandings. Every clue that Daniel thought Johnny might not understand was met with a bright-eyed stare of recognition, every correctly chosen word earned him a high-five or a fist bump. 

It wasn’t the same as Johnny’s hands in his hair in the kitchen, but it was a nice reminder. 

He walked Johnny out to his car when the night was over, his skin buzzing contentedly from a couple of glasses of wine he had after he finished his beer. Johnny was walking slowly, his hand just barely brushing Daniel’s knuckles on his meandering walk, like he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. 

Daniel wanted to ask him to stay longer, but he could hear the sound of teenagers pouring out the open front door. 

“We make a good team,” he said when they got to Johnny’s car. 

Johnny raised an eyebrow at him. “That all you want to say while you’re out here?” 

His mouth went dry. Johnny watched him closely before he leaned against his car and crossed his arms, content to wait him out. 

“When you said something hit you in the face –”

“Yeah,” Daniel cut him off, anxious to confirm it, too anxious to hear it said out loud. 

“Look, you don’t have to kiss me, LaRusso,” Johnny said with a smirk. “I’m just saying you can.” 

He exhaled a shaky laugh, quiet in the silence that followed. Johnny wasn’t laughing at him, even if his eyes were full of mirth, of mischief. He looked happy. That alone was enough to knock Daniel reeling. 

“I –” he said as the front door clanged open all the way. 

It was Robby, arm around Moon’s waist, whispering something in her ear that made her squirm away, laughing. They stopped when they spotted Daniel and Johnny, facing each other in the driveway, Johnny with his arms crossed. 

“Are you guys fighting again?” Robby asked, exasperated. 

Johnny chuckled, pushing off of his car. “No, we’re not fighting,” he said. “We’re friends.” 

He had firm hold of Daniel’s gaze when he said it, the same smirk on his face that Daniel remembered from the eighties, his eyes alight with a hidden joke.


	3. Physical Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel teaches Johnny how to dance.

_Look, you don’t have to kiss me, LaRusso, I’m just saying you can._

The words were a loop that replayed in Daniel’s mind in every spare moment he had, intruding on important thoughts and shoving them aside willy-nilly. He was borderline angry with Johnny at this point, the man’s voice echoing in his mind so often he thought he might actually start drinking at work to get some damn peace. 

He should have kissed him – he should have done something other than just standing there and staring at him like a teenaged idiot. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t be haunted by the invitation. 

By the time he got home, he could hardly remember what he’d accomplished at work that day, which meant he probably hadn’t gotten anything done at all. Amanda would have something to say about that tomorrow, if that were true. They had managed to keep the company largely functional, even in the wake of their divorce, but she was still more organized than he was, so he was often deferring to her better judgment. 

He thought about texting her and asking if there was anything he could get done at home to avoid the scolding he would inevitably get tomorrow. 

“Mr. LaRusso?” 

He jumped, almost upsetting his long-forgotten cup of coffee in his hands. Robby was staring at him from the doorway, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah, Robby, what’s up?” 

“Do you know how to dance?” 

He chuckled, setting the cup of coffee in the sink, content to forget about it longer. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” 

Robby tugged on the end of his shirt, a nervous tic that his father also had, and let his eyes roam around the room instead of staying on Daniel. “Moon invited me to this…country club thing.” 

Daniel could instantly feel the phantom burn of spaghetti sauce across his chest. He sighed. “And there will be dancing?” he asked. 

“There will definitely be dancing,” Robby said. “I just don’t want to look like an idiot.” 

Sometimes, Robby was a spitting image of Johnny – the way he clenched his fists when he got angry and didn’t want anyone to know, the jokes that slipped out when he couldn’t stop them in time, the temper, the karate talent. Now, Daniel saw himself mirrored in his visage, suddenly so young and worried about what faceless rich people would think of him. He remembered waiting for Ali outside the country club, wondering where she was, why he wasn’t inside with her. 

He remembered the chaos that came after. 

“Have you thought about asking your dad?” he asked tentatively. “Not that I don’t want to teach you –”

“He doesn’t seem like the dancing type,” Robby said uncertainly. 

Daniel remembered peering through the kitchen window to see Johnny dancing with Ali, eyes cast down at her, his face soft in a way he’d never seen before, tender around the mouth. He remembered thinking they moved like a dream. “I think he is,” he said. 

“I’ll – I’ll ask him,” Robby said, blinking like he couldn’t quite understand why Daniel was turning him down, why he was offering up Johnny when he was readily available. Daniel couldn’t remember if he had ever denied teaching Robby anything – that was how they had gotten so close to begin with. 

But didn’t his father deserve to have this moment with his son? 

“We can – we can both teach you,” Daniel offered, unable to stand the concern that settled over Robby’s face. “Two teachers are better than one,” he added weakly. 

Robby furrowed his brows again. He was looking at Daniel like he was speaking another language. “Okay…” he said, the word trailing off. “I’ll call him.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned away, leaving Daniel alone, feeling embarrassed. 

He felt like the worst secret agent ever. 

***

Daniel had just made himself a fresh coffee when his phone rang. 

“LaRusso, did you tell my kid I can dance?” 

He dropped the sugar spoon, where it clanked loudly into the sink. “Uhhh, yes?” he said. 

“Why in the hell would you do something stupid like that?” 

He fished the spoon out of the sink and rinsed it, drying it on the towel hanging on the little rack by the oven. He cradled the phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “Because you can,” he said simply. 

“No, I can’t!” 

“Okay, so what were you doing at the country club with Ali that night she punched you in the face?” He added more sugar to his coffee, wondering as he did if he had already put sugar in there or not. 

“Yeah, all I did was shuffle side to side, LaRusso, I can’t do that pussy waltz shit!”

“Okay, so I’ll teach Robby how to dance instead,” Daniel said placatingly, taking a sip of his coffee. He winced. Too sweet. 

“No, you won’t,” Johnny hissed on the other end of the line, “Because I told him that I could teach him, so he thinks he’s getting two teachers.” Daniel could hear the words he didn’t say. He didn’t want to lose this chance to do something with his son. He wanted a bonding moment that Robby usually denied him.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Johnny?” 

“You’re going to teach me how to dance, and then we’re going to teach Robby,” Johnny said, and Daniel laughed, hard enough that he almost sloshed coffee onto his shirt. “What’s funny, LaRusso?” 

“It’s just…how many sitcoms do you watch?” 

Johnny huffed indignantly over the line, but it sounded almost like a laugh. “Just get your dancing shoes, Twinkletoes, I’ll be over in half an hour.” 

“Over –?” Daniel repeated. “No, don’t come over here. Robby’s here, he’s going to see you getting dancing lessons.” 

“Then you’re coming over here,” Johnny said. “Bring dancing music.” 

“You have a cell phone,” Daniel pointed out. 

“So?” 

***

Johnny spent the half hour before Daniel arrived cleaning his apartment. The apartment was still sparse, free enough of excess furniture and decorations that it didn’t take long to throw out the old beer cans and rid his fridge of expired milk. He was done in record time, sitting on the edge of his couch, tapping his feet. 

Of course LaRusso told Robby he could dance – he still remembered seeing Daniel’s face in the kitchen window, bright red jacket and raised eyebrows. He hadn’t meant to look up and see him, but something whispered that he should look up, and now, thirty years later or more, he still remembered Daniel’s face more than anything else that happened that night. 

Ali was always kind about his lack of dancing skills. She claimed that she liked that about him, that he wasn’t just like the rest of the country club assholes that her mother liked to force her into dancing with. He would let her lead, content to follow to keep up appearances, to encourage her mother to like him. 

His stomach turned itself in knots when he thought of Robby doing the same thing. 

The quiet tap on his front door shook the memory free, and he felt it lingering in the room on his way to let Daniel in. 

He took in Daniel’s appearance (a sleeveless shirt and black shorts) appreciatively. “Where’s your tutu, Princess?” he asked. Daniel rolled his eyes. 

“It’s at the cleaners,” he retorted, stepping past Johnny into the small living room. “You know, Johnny, I don’t think you need to worry so much –”

“So this Moon chick,” Johnny interrupted, the words flying out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Is she…you know, nice?” 

Daniel considered the question with pursed lips. “She’s one of Sam’s best friends. She’s always seemed really nice to me.” He tilted his head at Johnny, reminding him forcibly of his teenage self. “Why do you ask?” 

“If Robby is worried about this country club thing –”

“She invited him, but she didn’t pressure him,” Daniel interrupted, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter, and Johnny watched him closely, taking in his movements where he hadn’t been paying attention before. Was LaRusso graceful enough to be a good dancer? 

He probably was, the little shit was good at everything. 

“I don’t want my kid worrying himself to death for a girl,” Johnny said when Daniel didn’t continue. 

Daniel gave him a smile, unexpected and soft, and nodded once. “Duly noted,” he said like noting it was particularly important. Johnny wondered what the information would be used for later. “Are you ready for your crash course in dancing?” 

“If you start breakdancing, I might have to beat you up.” 

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Did you know you make jokes when you’re nervous?” 

“No, LaRusso, I’m a stranger to myself.” 

Daniel chuckled and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Whatever you say, Johnny.” He put the phone on the counter, the screen still lit up. “Now, do you want to lead? Or do you want me to?” 

“I’m sure you’re used to other people taking the lead, LaRusso,” he quipped, thinking of Daniel’s surprised laugh at his invitation outside by his car, the way his face went red in the kitchen. “Let’s see if you can do it.” 

Daniel cleared his throat loudly, turning away to fiddle with his phone. Johnny laughed, full and happy. 

“God, LaRusso, you’re so easy,” he said fondly. 

Instead of answering, Daniel stepped into his space, reaching for Johnny’s hands, his face determined and professional. He put one of Johnny’s hands on his shoulder and took the other one in his own. Johnny watched him do it, content to be arranged. 

“I’m going to teach you the steps before I use music,” Daniel explained, as if Johnny had asked. In fact, he had completely forgotten that they needed music. 

“Did you plan out some choreography or what?” he asked, chuckling, enjoying the exasperated look Daniel shot him. 

“It’s just the waltz, Johnny,” he said, like he was talking to a child. “It works in 3/4 time.” 

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Watch, look,” Daniel said, fastening his other hand around Johnny’s waist. “Step back with your left foot.” He did, Daniel following him easily. “And then bring your feet together.” 

And then the man started counting, quietly under his breath, his hand on Johnny’s hip gently prodding him to the left, and then pulling him forward. Johnny just went where he was being led, the steps clumsy and not nearly as smooth as Daniel’s, clean and crisp, his shoulders and back ramrod straight. 

“Of course you can dance,” Johnny muttered, relishing in the momentary stutter of the clean steps his voice caused. 

Daniel looked up at him, his smaller stature suddenly highlighted in their proximity. “If you can fight, you can dance,” he said softly, thoughtfully.

“I’m sure I’ll prove you wrong.” 

Daniel shrugged, continuing through his steps. “You’ve been doing this just fine.” 

Johnny looked down at their feet, his hair barely brushing Daniel’s forehead. “It’s just stepping in a triangle.” 

Daniel chuckled. “Yeah, it is.” He pulled back, far enough that he could see all of Johnny’s face, but kept tugging him along, the dance continuing. “I told you that you didn’t need to worry so much.” 

“Don’t get too excited,” Johnny warned. “Let’s try it with music.” 

Daniel released him, long enough to press a button on his phone, and came back, offering his arms in his dancing position. Johnny gave him a smirk and stepped into them. “You leading again?” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Let’s see how you do with music, and then I’ll let you lead.” 

“Bossy,” Johnny said, the music starting behind him. “Is this –?”

“Frank Sinatra,” Daniel finished for him. “Now, try not to look at your feet. Look at me.” 

Johnny felt his ears grow warm. “Yes, Sensei.” 

Daniel’s face softened before he managed to rearrange it into something more professional. “Remember the three count.” 

_You go to my head  
And you linger like a haunting refrain_

Daniel guided him back and to the left first again, this time turning their bodies so they were moving in what Johnny perceived to be a circle within a circle, eyes locked. It wasn’t so hard to follow the steps, he thought, when he was being led. 

_And I find you spinning round in my brain  
Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne_

“Ali always led when we danced at the country club,” he said quietly, so he could still hear the music. Daniel blinked at the mention of her name, but didn’t tear his eyes away. “The club had dancing lessons for the little rich kids, see, and my mom didn’t marry my step-dad until I was already too old to take them.”

_You go to my head  
Like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew_

Daniel swallowed, the movement of his throat obvious. “I didn’t know.” 

Johnny chuckled and ducked his head for a second, breaking the eye contact. All it did was pull them closer together. “I know you didn’t.” 

_And I find the very mention of you  
Like the kicker in a julep or two_

“I was always working my ass off to make sure that Ali’s parents thought I was born rich,” he continued, dropping his gaze to the sliver of Daniel’s neck and collarbone he could see, where his shirt had slid over. “They were so judgmental of everyone who wasn’t like them, didn’t look like them. I was terrified that they’d see I was just a pretender.” 

_The thrill of the thought  
That you might give a thought to my plea, cast a spell over me_

“And now Robby –”

“Is doing the same thing I did,” Johnny finished. “If this girl is nice, that’s fine. I’m more concerned about whether or not her parents are nice.” 

_Still I say to myself get a hold of yourself  
Can't you see that it never can be?_

Daniel nodded, pulling Johnny to a stop. He didn’t step away. 

“Your turn to lead,” he said, taking his hand off Johnny’s hip and putting it on his shoulder. 

_You go to my head_

Johnny grinned, careful to slide his hand over Daniel’s hip toward his back. “Dangerous decision, LaRusso,” he said, pulling him closer. 

_With a smile that makes my temperature rise_

He could feel Daniel’s breath hitch when their chests came together. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

_Like a summer with a thousand Julys_

“Yeah,” Daniel said readily, pulling back to look up at him. 

_You intoxicate my soul with your eyes_

He didn’t expect that. He had planned on making a joke, but the room felt tense, the air thick. Instead, he released Daniel’s hand to touch his jaw, guiding him forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

_Though I'm certain that this heart of mine_

“Did you pick this song on purpose?” he asked. 

_Hasn't a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance_

Daniel didn’t answer. Johnny didn’t expect him to. 

_You go to my head_

***

Daniel leaned against the counter in his own kitchen, watching Johnny guide Robby through the basic step of the waltz, smirking when Johnny’s eyes caught his across the room. He wondered if Robby could tell that Johnny was a waltz novice. 

And then Johnny made a quiet joke that made Robby throw back his head and laugh, and he realized it didn’t matter. 

“We need someone his own size,” Johnny called out to him. “Where’s your daughter?” 

“The daughter is right here,” Sam announced from the open back door. “Dancing with the Stars coming back already?” 

“Robby is learning how to waltz,” Daniel offered. 

“Oh,” Sam said curiously. “Need a partner that’s not your dad?” she asked Robby, who grimaced weakly. 

“Please?” he asked. 

She shrugged and trotted over, tossing her phone onto the couch. “Sure,” she said amiably. “I think I remember how to do it.” 

She stepped into the dancer’s frame, a leftover habit from her short time in ballet, and took Robby’s hand. “Dad?” she called over her shoulder. “I think you and Sensei Lawrence should pair up and show us how it’s done.” 

“I don’t think –” he started while Johnny covered his mouth to hide his smile. 

“Well, I just don’t think I remember the steps,” Sam said innocently, batting her eyelashes. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I think you do.” 

“Prove it, Father.” 

“Come on, LaRusso,” Johnny interjected. “Humor her.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes at him, trying to ignore the way Sam’s eyes darted between them both. “Fine,” he groused. 

“Turn on that Sinatra song you like,” Johnny said, his eyes so painfully blue and fathomless that Daniel didn’t even think to deny him. He obliged, turning on the same song he played in Johnny’s apartment before guiding Johnny’s hand to his hip, knowing that even though Johnny was in the position to lead, he would defer to Daniel’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Sinatra song they dance to in the living room: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0NJMYTxnLI


	4. Words of Affirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a parent means having uncomfortable conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for mention of drug abuse.

Daniel always prided himself on knowing when something was wrong. When he was young, and his father got sick, he got used to quietly observing his parents and picking out the behaviors that gave away how they really felt. Parents always tried to keep the hard stuff from their kids – he did the same thing with his own children – but in tuning himself so completely to non-verbal communication when he was young, he was cursed with it when he was older. 

He didn’t miss the way Robby slammed the front door a little louder than usual when he got home Friday evening. He looked up from his laptop, set up comfortably at the kitchen table with a plate of cookies Anoush apparently made on some new baking kick he was on with Amanda, Robby’s retreating form already almost gone, steps carefully measured, hands clenched at his sides. 

He heard before he saw Sam come out of her room and follow Robby into the guest house. He let her go – perhaps whatever was bothering him could be solved by a conversation with Sam. 

Work beckoned, and he let himself be immersed in it for the greater part of the afternoon and into the evening, unable to tear himself away until Sam clicked the light on in the kitchen and pulled out the blender to make a smoothie. By that time, the slammed door and Robby’s clenched fists had been completely forgotten.

***

Saturday was his favorite day of the week. He didn’t have to deal with work, he didn’t have to plan karate training – all he had to do was cook a meal and sit down with Johnny. It was an easy, indulgent routine that had only gotten more domestic since their camping trip and all that came after. 

And then Johnny’s agreed-upon arrival time came and went, with the man nowhere to be seen. 

Initially, Daniel wasn’t worried – Johnny’s penchant for oversleeping was nothing new to him, but as the clock hand moved slowly, painstakingly around the clock hanging across from the kitchen, his forced nonchalance shifted into concern. 

He picked up his phone and dialed his number. No answer. 

That wasn’t like Johnny. He certainly preferred phone calls over text messages – he refused to answer most texts unless he absolutely couldn’t call, claiming that he refused to be a teenager and spell check what he had to say. If he had something to say, he’d say it out loud, dammit. 

He dialed again – this call went straight to voicemail. 

He left his phone behind on the marble countertop and found Sam lounging by the pool, eyes closed against the warm sun. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She cracked one eye, reminding him of a relaxed house cat, and looked around. 

“Shouldn’t Sensei Lawrence be here by now?” 

“Yeah, he should,” Daniel answered. “Did Miguel mention any Cobra Kai training that he had to do today?” 

Sam furrowed her brow. “No,” she said. “But maybe Robby would know.” 

“About Cobra Kai?”

“About his dad,” Sam clarified. “They had a fight yesterday, Robby didn’t tell you?” 

The slammed door came back to him, the clenched hands. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “No, he didn’t tell me.” 

“Something about his mom,” Sam said. “He didn’t really want to tell me.” 

Daniel was already turning away, his gaze finding the guest house. He hadn’t seen Robby leave since the night before, but it wouldn’t be difficult to leave the guest house and not walk through the main one. He glanced back at Sam. “Is he in there?” 

Sam sat up straight. “I haven’t seen him leave.” 

He could feel, in the spreading bitterness in his gut, that Robby wouldn’t be in the guest house. He remembered, without much prompting, how Robby had left when Daniel found out Johnny was his father, the way he tried to quit at LaRusso Auto when Louie played a joke on him. Robby was good at running when he was upset. 

That was yet another thing he and his father had in common, he thought, remembering his phone on the kitchen counter. 

His instincts proved correct – Robby wasn’t in the guest house, but more concerning was the fact that his bag of clothes and toothbrush were also gone. Daniel stood in the room, now suddenly looking forlorn without Robby’s shoes tossed across the floor, without his skateboard leaning by the door. 

“I’ll try to call him,” Sam’s voice startled Daniel out of his reverie, and he watched her unlock her phone and dial. 

They stood in silence while the ghostly ring echoed between them. 

“This is Robby. Leave a message, or don’t.” 

“I’m going to call Johnny again,” Daniel said, leaving Sam behind in the abandoned room. 

He hoped that when he got back to his phone, he’d have a missed call from Johnny. He didn’t want to think the other man was ignoring him on purpose – surely they’d moved past that kind of immature behavior. But there were no new notifications when he got back, and the pit in his stomach widened when he dialed again and the call went straight to voicemail. 

“Anything?” Sam asked worriedly when he turned around. 

“I’m going to go by his apartment,” Daniel said, reaching for his keys and wallet. “Can you reach out to Moon? Maybe he went to see her.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, looking down at her phone. “I’ll call you.” 

He didn’t bother saying goodbye. 

***

Johnny measured the level of his drunkenness by how difficult it was for him to get up out of his chair to get another drink. He’d been doing it that way since he was fifteen years old and Dutch had given him his first beer on the beach. At this point, he was struggling to get out of the chair, but he was reluctant to admit he was drunk. 

He’d hoped being drunk would make him feel less like shit, but he was disappointed in his progress so far. He was almost out of beer, too, which was bound to make things even worse. He wished, suddenly, that he’d been listening when Miguel tried to explain how he could order booze to be delivered to his door. 

He stared at his cell phone, abandoned on the table in front of him, power switched off. He hadn’t bothered to look to see who was calling when he decided to turn it off – he just knew he didn’t want to talk to anyone. All he managed to do when he talked to anyone was piss them off, apparently. 

He could still hear Robby’s voice, loud, insistent in his ears. _“I want to see Mom.”_ The way his lower lip trembled – the way his voice cracked when he graduated to a yell. 

He knew to expect to have uncomfortable conversations with his son – Daniel had warned him about not shying away from them when they came up, and he was certainly no stranger to telling Robby exactly what he didn’t want to hear, but this was different. 

He felt like all of the progress they’d made had been swiftly wiped away. 

One step forward, a thousand steps back, he thought ruefully, lurching upward to go grab the bottle of cheap whiskey from the top of his fridge. 

He had only managed to reach for it when he heard an insistent knock at his door, the cadence so familiar that he realized, with a pang in his gut, who was standing on the other side. 

“LaRusso,” he said as he pulled the door open, leaning against it for support. 

“You’re okay,” was the only thing Daniel said before pushing him aside to step into the apartment. “God, Johnny, you are…” he wrinkled his nose, “drunk.” 

“Charming,” Johnny quipped, shutting the door behind him. “What are you –”

Oh shit, it was Saturday, wasn’t it? 

“I’m assuming you’re just now catching up,” Daniel said, not kindly, dropping his keys with a clang into the kitchen counter. “I called you like five times.” 

Johnny opened his arms wide, gesturing to everything. “As you can see, I’m busy.” 

Daniel’s face hardened for a moment, and Johnny thought, gleefully, that he was in for a fight, but as soon as he saw it, the steeliness was gone, replaced with worry. He offered Johnny his arm, leading him gently to the couch. He left him there and went to the kitchen, where Johnny could hear him fiddling with the coffeepot. 

“What happened with Robby?” he asked, water running in the sink. 

Johnny shrugged, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. “Nothing.” 

“So that’s why he’s packed all of his stuff and left my guest house without telling anyone?” Daniel asked, leaning against the kitchen cabinet, his eyes boring into Johnny’s across the room. “Try again, John.” 

“He’s gone?” 

Daniel gave him a grim half-smile. “I have Sam on the hunt for him,” he said. “Let’s not worry until we have to worry.” 

But he was already worried, Johnny could tell by the tight grip he had on the side of the counter, the way his foot was tapping on the shitty linoleum tile. Johnny gritted his teeth and leaned back into the couch, tilting his head up. 

“He wanted to see his mom,” he said toward the ceiling. 

“But she’s in rehab,” Daniel interrupted, his voice closer than before. Johnny tilted his chin down to catch sight of him sitting on the edge of the armchair, eyes intent on Johnny. “She’s not allowed visitors.” 

“I told him that,” Johnny said. 

“He can call her,” Daniel offered. “Once she got past six weeks, she was allowed to talk to him over the phone. Did you tell him that?” 

Johnny sighed. “She’s not allowed phone calls right now.” 

“What?” Daniel asked as the coffeepot dinged. He rose, turning back to Johnny on his journey to the kitchen. “Why not?” 

“While you’re in there, get me the whiskey,” Johnny groaned, dropping his head to his hands. 

“You’re getting coffee, no whiskey,” Daniel said firmly. “Why can’t Robby call his mother?” 

He couldn’t explain it, but he was getting rapidly impatient with this line of questioning. “Why do you think, LaRusso?” 

He lifted his head to see Daniel standing at the edge of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand, looking forlorn. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’m just trying to help.” 

Johnny felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Daniel to focus on his shitty Amazon coffee table. “She relapsed.” 

“She –” he could hear Daniel’s feet on the carpet and suddenly he was next to him on the couch, the cup of coffee abandoned and steaming in front of him. “How?” 

Johnny shrugged. “They didn’t give me the details. All I know is she relapsed after the argument we had about Robby. So, she has to start the program all over again.” He blinked past the frustrated tears that being angry and drunk always brought out in him. “It’s my fault Robby can’t talk to her.” 

Daniel, beside him, didn’t speak. He stared forward, not blinking, for a few moments, and then dropped his hand gently onto Johnny’s knee. 

“You are not responsible for her,” he said softly, firmly. “Just because you had an argument doesn’t mean it’s your fault.” 

Johnny didn’t say anything. He knew how much Daniel prided himself on being able to help people, to fix them. He got that from Mr. Miyagi. He didn’t want to tell Daniel that there wasn’t a way for him to fix this one, there wasn’t a way to convince him that this wasn’t his fault. 

Because how was he supposed to believe that? He and Shannon have a screaming match on the phone and less than a day later she gets her hands on some pills? That wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe that was just what he brought out in her – and his own son. 

“Hey, I don’t trust it when you’re quiet,” Daniel nudged him in the shoulder. “Coffee for your thoughts?” he pressed the warm cup into Johnny’s hands, his own guiding Johnny’s fingers over it so he wouldn’t drop it. 

“You don’t have to be here, LaRusso,” Johnny said finally, staring down at the coffee without drinking it. 

“I don’t have to,” Daniel agreed. “But where else would I be?” He leaned over, his head resting comfortably on Johnny’s shoulder. “Robby is used to seeing his mom constantly. He’s used to feeling responsible for her, for helping her. It’s only natural that he seeks her out when he hasn’t heard from her in a while,” he said, his hand on Johnny’s leg soft, barely there. “That’s not on you. The only thing you can do is be honest with him.” 

“He told me I was lying,” Johnny said, finally taking a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t as bitter as he usually drank it. “That I was just trying to keep him from seeing her.” 

“He misses her,” Daniel pointed out. “That’s going to make him defensive.” 

“He doesn’t trust me.” 

“He – that’s not it,” Daniel hesitated. “Robby doesn’t trust a lot of people –”

Johnny winced. “Yeah, and whose fault is that?” 

Daniel sighed heavily, his breath ghosting over Johnny’s hands. “Yeah, sure, that probably has something to do with you. But unless you’re planning on pulling a _Back to the Future,_ there’s not a lot you can do about the past.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel less guilty.” 

Daniel shrugged. “It wasn’t to make you feel better,” he said calmly. “I was just pointing out the logic behind time travel.” 

He took another sip of his coffee, his almost laugh nothing but an exhale. “Whatever, LaRusso.” 

He paused, his eyes landing on his phone, still turned off. Another wave of guilt washed over him. He missed their weekly meal. Daniel had cooked for them, and then spent time trying to track him down. 

“I’m sorry I missed lunch.” 

“It’s just pesto ravioli,” Daniel shrugged. “It’ll keep.” 

Johnny tried to catch his eye. “Can we have it for dinner?” he asked tentatively. 

Daniel’s brown eyes met his, hopeful. “Only if you’re sober,” he warned, looking back down at the coffee sternly. Johnny rolled his eyes and took another drink. 

***

It was Johnny who ended up realizing where Robby was, his hand landing over Daniel’s in the Audi ten minutes later. Moon had heard nothing from him since the night before, and Sam’s own trek out to his favorite skatepark had yielded nothing. 

They found him sitting outside the Sherman Oaks Rehabilitation Center, his skateboard underneath his feet, hands in his hair. Daniel and Johnny sat in silence in the car, neither of them sure about what to do now. Johnny considered telling Daniel to go out there to talk to him – it was a much safer bet than the other option – but then Daniel looked over at him, eyebrows raised, and before he could change his mind, Johnny was halfway out of the car and walking toward his son. 

“They won’t let me see her,” Robby said when he glanced up at him. His eyes were red. “They won’t even give her a note from me.” 

“They’re just doing their jobs,” Johnny said quietly, sitting on the little bench beside him. “You don’t want to see her like this, anyway.” 

“I do,” Robby replied insistently. “I don’t care what she looks like, I don’t care if she’s sick.” 

Johnny grimaced. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“I just –” he inhaled shakily. “She’s never been gone this long, you know?” 

“She’s trying to get better,” Johnny said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “And sometimes that means messing up, and sacrificing time you wish you could have back later.” 

He glanced up to the car, where Daniel was watching them both, a fond almost smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry I called you a liar,” Robby muttered, so quietly Johnny almost missed it. He smiled – that was pretty much what all of his apologies sounded like when he was Robby’s age. 

He shrugged. “If there’s one thing you can count on, kid, it’s that I’ll always tell you the truth.” He reached under the bench to grab Robby’s backpack. “Because you’ll probably never like what I have to say.” 

Robby chuckled. “I’ll remember that.” 

Johnny stood, offering Robby his hand. “Come on, let’s go home.” 

***

Daniel wasn’t sure how to explain how they got here. They managed to get Robby settled back into the guest house, Johnny quiet at his side while Robby unpacked his backpack. They left him alone with Sam, who hovered at the doorway, blue eyes wide in the silence. 

Their lunch became their dinner, Johnny’s entire being lighter than it had been hours before, his smiles easy, his jokes unfiltered. 

It didn’t keep all of the worry at bay, though. Daniel could still see the sadness around his eyes, could still see the hurried glances he still threw toward the door that Robby always came through. Things had been fixed, but the wound wasn’t healed. 

He can’t remember how he convinced Johnny to stay over, the excuse thin, Johnny’s knowing glance erasing any hope he had of being sneaky about it. He didn’t want to have to tell Johnny that he worried about him going back to his apartment just to get blackout drunk again. He didn’t want Johnny to think he was parenting him. 

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Johnny pointed out, Daniel’s LaRusso Auto shirt a little too tight around his shoulders. He leaned against Daniel’s bedroom door, arms crossed. “I was out of beer at my place anyway.” 

“Like you can’t get your hands on some beer,” Daniel replied, sliding on his glasses, contacts removed and tucked away.

“Fair play, LaRusso,” he said with a chuckle. 

This was where Johnny would usually say something that caught him off-guard. Daniel knew the formula by now. This felt almost the same as game night, with Johnny leaning on something, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, Daniel waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

_Look, you don’t have to kiss me, LaRusso, I’m just saying you can._

“You should stay with me tonight,” Daniel blurted, so fast Johnny’s smirk slid right off his face. “In here.” 

“Trying to prove to me that you don’t snore?” Johnny asked, but he was already stepping farther into the bedroom, easy as that. “I will get video proof, LaRusso.” 

“Maybe,” Daniel shrugged, pulling the covers back. “Maybe not.” 

Johnny smiled and lowered his eyes, almost bashful, almost young again. Daniel watched it happen, pulse thudding dully in his ears. He seemed to be waiting for Daniel’s cue – Daniel slid between the sheets, pushing his glasses up his nose when they slid down, and Johnny followed suit, shimmying down into the mass of pillows with a laugh. 

“What is this, ten million thread count sheets, LaRusso?” he asked with a laugh, spoiling his feigned surprise with pillows fluffed up around him. “Man, the rich really are different.” 

“Just because you haven’t changed your sheets since 1990 –”

“1994, get it right.” 

He laughed, pulling off his glasses and leaving them on the side table. He glanced over at Johnny, blankets pulled up to his chin, and turned to turn off the lamp. In the darkness, he felt Johnny sidle up next to him, arm sliding over Daniel’s waist. 

Daniel pulled him closer, arm underneath Johnny’s neck, so he could feel the impossibly soft blond hair tickling his chin. Johnny sighed against him, his body relaxing into the bed. 

“Thank you,” Johnny muttered, his breath warm against Daniel’s neck. “For today.” 

“I didn’t do anything.” 

“Thank you for not…being angry with me.” 

Daniel pressed a kiss to the top of Johnny’s head, graceless and insistent. He didn’t speak. Johnny just held him tighter.


	5. Acts of Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and Robby move into a new apartment.

In luck, Daniel supposed, they were unlucky. 

An influx of students and their family’s money brought Johnny enough padding to move into a larger apartment in the same complex, a bedroom now set aside and waiting for Robby. Those new students gave him the opportunity to take his son shopping for furniture, bedspreads, even curtains. Daniel reminded him gently, on another Saturday afternoon, that if Robby got curtains, perhaps Johnny should get his own. 

That earned him an amused sneer and a tossed cherry tomato at his face. 

That next Saturday, they didn’t have lunch together, as usual. They were packing Robby’s belongings, or what they managed to save when Shannon got evicted from their other place, into Daniel’s Audi to take to Johnny’s. 

He wasn’t in a bad mood, necessarily. No, he was happy that Johnny was finally getting this opportunity to spend time with his son the way a father traditionally would, by living with him. He was overjoyed that Robby was warming to his father a little more each day, and he was thrilled that everything seemed to be falling into place. 

But after today, a selfish little voice kept reminding him, there would be no reason to have weekly lunches with Johnny anymore. 

They could, but without the reason, would they? It was easy to think about their newfound closeness when it was necessary, because they were constantly talking, but would Johnny even think about him once his son was back where he belonged? 

He thought he would, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“LaRusso, are you going to stand there and stare at nothing all day or are you going to grab the other end of the damn dresser?” Johnny’s voice shook him easily from his reverie, the man himself smirking at him, eyebrows raised, his flannel shirt and sleeveless shirt beneath it reminding Daniel of the man he met in his dealership over a year ago, hood up, eyes guarded. 

How different he was now. 

“I got it, Mr. LaRusso,” Robby said bracingly, going over to the other side of the dresser and lifting it easily. 

Johnny let Robby ease his end through the doorway first, his eyes coming back to find him. “Wouldn’t want you to throw your back out or something, old man,” he teased lightly, chuckling when Daniel gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder. 

There wasn’t much in this little storage unit that Daniel had rented when Robby went to stay with them more permanently. A small bookshelf, big enough to hold only the books that were already on it, buried deep under a layer of dust, half of them comic books; a dresser that was already on its way to the back of the Audi; a dining room table they would leave behind. Most of Shannon’s furniture had been left behind, too big and too bulky for Daniel and Robby to get out the door before the landlord realized they were there. He felt a pang of guilt for leaving it behind. 

He met Robby and Johnny at the Audi, content to direct them in the act of loading the dresser into the back as gracefully as possible, his eyes more focused on the way father and son worked together, in more harmony than he had ever seen, than the temperamental carpet in the back of the hatchback. 

“Here,” Johnny said, tossing his keys to Robby, who caught them as a reflex and looked down at the keychain, confused. “Drive my car back home. I’m riding with LaRusso.” 

“Okay,” Robby said excitedly, too entranced by the idea of the car to wonder at Johnny’s motives. Daniel, on the other hand, was not as easily distracted. 

“Drive the speed limit,” Daniel warned, opening the driver’s side door to the Audi and slipping inside. Robby gave him a two-fingered salute and got into the Charger, hands flexing on the steering wheel the same way they did on that Porsche Louie got him to turn on in the showroom so long ago. 

“ _Drive the speed limit_ ,” Johnny mocked lightly from the passenger seat. “Such a dad.” 

“That’s usually what you call a man with two children, yes,” he deadpanned, turning the car on and cranking up the A/C. “I’m just trying to keep your car safe.” 

“Like I don’t speed in it every day.” 

Daniel sighed. “Stop speeding.” 

“Okay, Officer LaRusso, what are you gonna do, arrest me?” 

Daniel fumbled with the gearshift, rolling his eyes when Johnny laughed. They followed Robby in the Audi, sitting in companionable silence, REO Speedwagon playing quietly underneath, until Johnny cleared his throat and spoke. 

“So…are you going to tell me why you’re acting weird?” he asked, his gaze nonchalantly fixed outside. 

“I’m not acting weird,” Daniel said unconvincingly. “I’m just…making sure we get all of Robby’s things to your place.” 

“Yeah, no, LaRusso, you’re being weird,” Johnny insisted, turning his intense blue eyes on Daniel, brow furrowed. “Staring off into space, looking sad. Who pissed in your espresso?” 

“No one…pissed in my espresso,” he said, his lips turning upward at Johnny’s smile. “It’s just…I don’t know. I’ll miss Robby.” 

“You’ll see him at Miyagi-do trainings,” Johnny pointed out. “And he’s best friends with your kid, so…try again.” 

“It’s the end of an era, you know?” Daniel said, gesturing vaguely to their surroundings, to the dresser that was blocking his rear view mirror, to the new key hanging off of Johnny’s keychain. “I’m bad with change.” 

“We’re past thirty,” Johnny pointed out. “We’re all bad with change.” 

Daniel shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Oh, while we’re talking about the end of eras,” Johnny said suddenly, Daniel’s low mood momentarily forgotten. “I got you something.” 

He rummaged around in his pocket, squirming uncomfortably in the seat from the confines of the seatbelt, his face so young and petulant again that Daniel had to remind himself that he was driving, he couldn’t look at him while he was doing this.

He passed Daniel a key, a little blue band around it. “Here,” he said, pressing it into his hand. “So we can still have Saturday lunches.” 

“You –” Daniel stopped, holding the key in his now slightly sweaty hand. “You want to have Saturday lunches still?” _You got me a key to your apartment_ seemed like too risky of a question to ask. 

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head. “Look, don’t expect fancy shit from me, LaRusso, you’ll get what I make. I’m not gonna take cooking classes because you want vegetables in your food.” 

He shifted in his seat before he continued. 

“Besides, I thought maybe we could cook some of them together.” 

Daniel stared at Johnny’s profile, sharp jaw shifting with tension, his eyes trained on something far away. He wondered, more and more often when it came to Johnny Lawrence, just how much he gleaned from simple observation alone. It seemed he always knew what Daniel was fixated on, what he was worrying about, without waiting for Daniel to obfuscate and avoid answering. 

“Keep your eyes on the road, LaRusso,” Johnny muttered, but his mouth was turning upward into a smile. “Can’t have you rear-ending my car after all of your whining about going the speed limit.” 

Johnny was so good at saying what he meant, or doing something that conveyed how he felt, and Daniel felt an overwhelming surge of guilt when he realized that he just didn’t do the same. He was always trying to dance around something, trying to avoid honesty when he could hide behind metaphor, or offhanded comments. 

He wondered, suddenly, what Johnny would do if he were honest. 

“I thought that, maybe,” he said, turning his eyes back to the road, “now that Robby was living with you, there would be no reason for us to have lunch together on Saturdays.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Johnny said, turning to study Daniel’s profile. He paused, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “I didn’t think you’d say it.” 

Daniel shrugged. “I’m trying to be less….”

“LaRusso-y?” 

“That’s not a word.” 

“Sure it is,” Johnny said, reaching over to drop his hand on top of Daniel’s on the gearshift for a second. “But I know what you mean.” 

Didn’t he always? 

***

Moving into the new apartment took all day – Johnny had forgotten what it was like to move; he’d been in that apartment for as long as he could remember. He counted himself as insanely lucky that he was only moving to another part of the same complex. Moving everything across town or to another city would have been a nightmare. 

As it was, he had plenty of help, and it was still a chore. Robby, Miguel, Sam, Moon, Anthony (not that he was much help), and Daniel could only do so much. Eventually, he realized that he might be tired, but the kids were exhausted. He could see it in the slump of Robby’s shoulders, in Miguel’s muted responses to Johnny’s half-hearted jokes. 

They were beat. 

“Alright, team, go get yourself some food and get some rest,” Johnny told them when dusk had fallen. He passed his wallet over to Robby, who looked at it with suspicion before taking it. “I pay my workers,” he said jokingly. 

“Does that mean you’re going to give me back pay for cleaning up the dojo?” Miguel asked from the kitchen, behind a tower of boxes. 

“No one likes a cheapskate, Diaz,” Johnny retorted, earning him a snort from behind the box tower. 

Robby slipped Johnny’s wallet into his back pocket. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“No thanks necessary, just bring me back a burger later,” he said, clapping his son on the back. “And something with vegetables for LaRusso.” 

Robby gave him an unreadable smile. “Yeah, okay.” 

Johnny took in the smile with furrowed brows. “You have your key?” he asked. 

“Yep,” Robby held up his little keychain, LaRusso’s keys on one side, Johnny’s on the other. The simple symbol of unity made Johnny smile. “I’ll text you when we’re on the way back.” 

He found Daniel in the kitchen, unpacking the coffeepot when the apartment finally emptied. He could tell, even from the back, that he was running on fumes. He was methodically taking pieces out of the box, settling them on the counter, and moving back to the box robotically, his eyes tired, his mind somewhere else. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Johnny said quietly so he wouldn’t disturb him. Daniel’s shoulders still went tense at the sound of his voice. 

“You’re going to wish this thing was unpacked tomorrow morning,” Daniel pointed out, reaching back into the box for another piece. 

Johnny sighed. “Come on, LaRusso, sit down for five minutes. You’re beat.” 

Daniel set the box on the floor and turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “Everyone’s beat,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah,” Johnny said, motioning to the empty apartment, “and I sent the kids out to eat, which means you and I have definitely qualified for a rest.” He put his hands on Daniel’s shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles there, smiling when Daniel immediately relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Come sit on the couch with me.” 

“Your couch is covered in boxes,” Daniel reminded him, his eyes still closed, his mouth quirked upward in a smile. 

Johnny groaned, rolling his eyes. “Come sit on my bed with me, then.” 

***

He promised himself, in the car, that he would try to be more forthcoming with Johnny in the future, no matter what his natural instincts told him to do. It was the least that Johnny deserved, after all. But as the day went on, Daniel felt his nerve wane. He was too tired for honesty, his muscles ached too much to suffer through nervous adrenaline. 

So he told himself he’d stay quiet today, and he’d be more honest when he was less tired. 

And then he found himself staring at the ceiling of Johnny’s new apartment, on his bed that still had no sheets on it, and wondered if he couldn’t find his nerve again. He could feel Johnny’s eyes on his profile, not probing, just content to watch. He turned his head and caught the blue eyes before he could look away. 

“I’m proud of you,” he said, just quietly enough that Johnny looked confused before the words registered. 

“For getting you into bed?” Johnny joked, but his cheeks were pink. “Thanks, it’s taken a lot of work.” 

Daniel ignored him. “You’ve worked so hard for this,” he said, motioning to the unpainted walls, the bare mattress. Beside him, Johnny huffed a laugh. “You know what I mean. I just want to help you get it all set up so you can enjoy what an accomplishment this is.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me,” Johnny reminded him, and there was that nervousness again, dancing around behind his eyes, shying away from Daniel before he could catch it. 

“Yeah, I know,” Daniel said, shoving him with his foot. “But I want to.” 

Johnny’s eyes landed on his face, taking in the firm set of his mouth, his eyes, his probably sweaty hair. There was surprise written in the lines of his face, in the almost smile. The reason hit Daniel so hard it almost knocked the breath out of him. 

Johnny wasn’t used to people doing things for him. 

He thought back to what he knew about Johnny’s life. He moved into his last apartment in a rush, fresh out of a divorce, out of his mother’s funeral, broke and probably drunk. No one had helped him, and no one had helped him any day after that. Sid’s help came in the form of money, something that Johnny held no real value in. Money corrupted, it was all money had ever done in his life. 

But someone volunteering their time and their energy just because they wanted to make him happy? That was rare. 

Daniel could relate to the idea of unmotivated favors being a valuable expression of love. He wanted nothing more than to spend time with people, and what was more valuable than your time? Johnny wasn’t terribly different – he was just more proactive. It was easier to prove to someone that you cared by showing them with hard work. 

“You falling asleep on me again, LaRusso?” Johnny asked, his voice soft now that the apartment was empty, the hum of the A/C the only sound. 

Daniel slipped an arm around Johnny’s back and used his solid weight to pull himself closer. Johnny watched him do it with amusement, hair fluffed from his pillow. Daniel propped himself up on an elbow to look down at him, Johnny’s eyes just heavy enough to betray his fatigue, his mouth upturned in that familiar smirk that always drove him wild. 

“Look, you don’t have to kiss me,” Daniel said quietly, clearing his throat when Johnny’s smirk turned into a grin. “I’m just saying that you can.” 

“Well thank God, LaRusso, _finally_ ,” Johnny said, pulling Daniel down by the back of his neck. Their first kiss was sloppy – too much laughing. Their second and their third was better – languid and thorough, both of them too tired to be particularly demanding. It was easy to kiss Johnny, Daniel thought absently as Johnny slipped his tongue in his mouth. Far easier to kiss Johnny than it was to fight him. 

Johnny slid his hand beneath Daniel’s shirt, strong hand splayed wide on the middle of his back, and sighed against his mouth. 

“As much as I’d love to do this,” he pulled away to press a momentary kiss on Daniel’s mouth again, “for…well, ever, the kids will probably be here soon.” 

“What’s the matter, Sensei Lawrence?” Daniel asked, tilting Johnny’s head up with his nose to pepper kisses along the column of his throat. “Scared?” 

Johnny huffed, his hand on Daniel’s back tight enough that each breath sent Johnny’s fingernails deeper into his skin. “I’m not scared, LaRusso, I’m just trying to not traumatize my kid.” 

“Sounds like you’re scared,” Daniel said, faux-seriously, sitting up, one leg thrown over Johnny’s hip. 

“You trying to fuck or fight, LaRusso?” Johnny asked, his other hand finding a place on Daniel’s hip. “Because I can accommodate both.” 

Daniel didn’t answer, but pulled Johnny back to him for another kiss. 

***

“I bet they’re drunk already,” Anthony said as he slid out of Moon’s car. “That’s all dads do when their kids aren’t in the house, anyway.” 

“I bet they got into a fight,” Miguel said, sipping his shake. “They’re overdue.” 

“Nah,” Robby said, twirling Moon with their intertwined hands, smiling at her gleeful laugh. “I bet my dad sat Mr. LaRusso down and made him watch _Over The Top_ again.” Moon gracefully slipped under his arm, stealing his vegan shake from his hand to take her own sip. “You want in on this?” he asked her. 

Moon turned her eyes to Sam, who met her gaze with a secretive smile. “Nope,” she said.

“What?” Miguel asked. “What are we missing?” 

“Nothing,” Sam defended as Moon’s giggle infected her. “Nothing, I’m sure they’re doing what you guys think they’re doing.” 

“Well what do you think they’re doing?” Robby asked. 

Sam raised her eyebrows and said nothing. 

“Oh, Sam, _come on!_ ” Robby said, scandalized. “That’s the absolute last thing I want to see.” 

“What?” Miguel asked, looking from Robby, to Moon, to Sam. “I don’t like being left out of the loop.” 

Sam pulled him close and leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

“That’s not fair, I want to know!” Anthony protested, trying to dodge Sam’s leg that kept him at bay. “Secrets don’t make friends!” 

“You’re not my friend, you’re my brother,” Sam pointed out while Miguel turned his wide eyes to Robby, who gave him a commiserating nod. 

“You know what? Good for them,” Miguel said with a laugh. 

“We could all be wrong,” Moon pointed out. “They could just be…” 

Robby slid the key into the lock and turned it, swinging the front door open. He glanced inside quickly, and then longer when he didn’t find anything. “Sitting in the dark?” 

The living room was deserted, boxes piled high on the couch and floor, coffee table askew. The kitchen was also empty, save for more boxes and a deconstructed coffee pot. 

“Okay, who’s going to check the rest of the place?” Anthony asked. “What if they murdered each other?” 

“Somehow, not the most traumatizing possibility,” Robby muttered, flipping on the lights to the living room. “I’ll go.” 

“ _I’ll_ go,” Sam contradicted. “You big babies.” 

She left them all standing in a huddle at the end of the hallway, first peeking into the bathroom, then Robby’s room, and saving Johnny’s for last. Carefully, she leaned closer to the door to listen, then covered her mouth and quietly pushed the door open all the way. 

“You have to see this,” she whispered, waving them all closer. 

“If this is a trick –”

“Shhh!” 

They gathered around the narrow doorway, the streetlight from outside peeking in through the blinds on the window, to find Daniel and Johnny both asleep, Daniel’s head resting on Johnny’s chest, mouth open, snoring. 

“That’s…cute,” Moon whispered. 

“Cute? This is absolutely something I can use to make Sensei back off on pushups,” Miguel said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Take a picture.” 

“Leave them alone,” Sam laughed, shoving everyone back down the hallway. “They’re tired.” 

“Yeah,” Miguel said with a grin. “I’m tired too. Tired of the pushups –”

“Diaz, you are getting _so many_ pushups on Monday,” Johnny’s voice was quiet, rough with sleep, but Miguel paled anyway. 

Daniel was so tired, even the laughter didn’t wake him up.


End file.
